


W is for Woebegone

by mks57



Series: A to Z 'Garcy' Fic Challenge [23]
Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 05:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16362038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mks57/pseuds/mks57
Summary: Garcy A to Z: Lucy finds a somewhat grief-stricken Flynn and comforts him.





	W is for Woebegone

Flynn sat at the table staring at the tiny plastic decorated Christmas tree in the bunker. It was October but Jiya had been adamant that Christmas would not be forgotten this year. So, she decorated early and she mixed her holidays too as there were Halloween decorations too. Flynn usually was able to push past certain triggers to his grief, but after three years; Christmas still got to him.

Like right now, the way the light glinted off the gold baubles, the tiny lights winked on and off; his mind fell into the past. An invisible band tightened around his chest and made it difficult to breathe as his throat nearly closed from the tidal wave of memory poured over him.

Good memories. Happy memories. Lost memories. The ones that cut him to the quick with their simplicity and their hopefulness. The little things.  It was always the little things that came back to him. The touch of Lorena’s hand when she directed him to place a certain decoration to the correct branch. The sound of Iris’ laugh. The weight of her in his hands as he lifted her up to place the star on the top of the tree.

The warmth of a Lorena's arms closing around him as she laughed and wept at the same time. Iris’ 100 questions about Christmas and her numerous letters to Santa; only one ever contained her wish list. The other letters were just normal correspondence as she believed Santa was her friend and he’d like to know more about her life and her wishes that he and the other inhabitants of the North Pole were well than just a list of demands once a year. The joy of bringing joy to another. Lost. Gone. Buried.

He drew a ragged breath, trying to expand his chest until the band of tightness would snap and set him free. It was in vain. Nothing, nothing, could set him free of loss.

"Flynn?”

The sound of Lucy's sleepy voice reached him but failed to get through the walls of grief that confined him. He drew another painful breath, struggling to keep himself together.

Lucy hadn’t even known Flynn was in the kitchen until she woke up from her nap on the lounge and turned to see him at one of the tables. She called out a ‘Good Morning’ but he didn’t respond. She wondered if he was ignoring her, ever since coming back from Chinatown and the success of saving Rufus, he’d been distant. In fairness, so had she as it weighed on her how she hadn’t been able to save her mother again.

Future Wyatt and Lucy had said some deaths were meant to be. They were just set fixtures in history where if one tinkered too much, it would alter the present in unspeakable way. She had been livid that she lost her entire family to the fight and they were considered ‘non-essential’ a.k.a. not worthy of being saved. Yet, saving Rufus was worth the damage to time and to the team.

Lucy didn’t fight the plan at the time, she had no regrets saving Rufus. She just felt cold and despondent. She’d lost hope, her future-self had told her to grow up as having hope was foolish and that their future was bleak. She hadn’t gone into details but Lucy could tell her future-self was jaded. She had her reasons, Lucy felt she knew why given the way she looked at Future Wyatt with longing mixed with disdain.

Lucy knew that feeling well as she had endured it ever since Jessica was brought back into existence. But she was tired of feeling it, she wanted to escape it. She wanted to escape Wyatt’s sphere and the ugliness he made her feel.

Maybe that was why she gravitated to Flynn. They didn’t have a romantic attachment. They were friends, he seemed to understand her in a way no one else did. She found him easy to talk to, his presence was calming.

But like her, he was suffering as Future Wyatt had been an asshole. He hadn’t minced his words when he said not everyone could be saved. His tone clear to both Lucy and Flynn that their families were collateral damage. Their deaths were ‘meant to be’ as the man put it callously. The thing was, neither Lucy or Flynn asked that question. Future Wyatt just told them as if it would minimise the chatter. It did as Flynn hadn’t spoken during the briefing of the plan to save Rufus. When it was over, he wished them luck and walked away.

But right now, she saw his pain. The sight of his face struck Lucy the core. Tears trailed down his cheeks, but he appeared oblivious of them, of her, of everything but whatever pain gripped him.

She reacted instinctively, she pulled up a chair by his and wrapped her arms around him. She pressed her soft cheek to his stubbled one.

"Garcia, tell me what I can do." she whispered, using his first name. She rarely did as she was comfortable with using his last name. There was no hidden meaning, no hatred of connotation to his past ill acts. But right now, it didn’t feel right to use his last name. It felt too impersonal when she was comforting him.

"Nothing ... nothing..." He said in a rusty and cracked whisper. Even as he refused her, his arms closed around her. She manoeuvred herself into his lap. Not caring who saw them and he let her as he held on tight. He squeezed until her ribs ached. She didn't care. She just tightened her own arms around him until she couldn't hold him any harder.

She pressed her face into the warmth of his neck and gave him what comfort closeness could.

"I'll be all right," he whispered roughly. "I'll be all right." He repeated as if he were trying to convince himself more than her.

But she felt the shudders rip through him, shudders that would have turned into wrenching sobs if they had been hers. His grief so incredibly palpable that it reflected her own. The emotional agony that spoke of terrible losses they shared. There was no competition as they both loved and lost dearly.

"I'll be all right," he said again, but he didn't loosen his hold on her. Lucy let him hold her tightly against him and press his wet face into the softness of her shoulder. She forgot everything except the man she held, the man who held her as if she was a lifeline.

Her fingers found their way into his soft dark brown hair and caressed him soothingly, telling him with their touch that she was there, that she cared. It was little enough to do.

How many minutes passed, neither of them could say nor did they care. They were lost in their own individual grief. Lucy’s grief dull as she had been where Flynn was, but she felt it just the same. But for Flynn is was old wound torn anew, she knew it was Christmas that triggered this. She had own triggers to recognise his, her heart ached for him. He’d lost a whole future filled with Christmases. A future that Rittenhouse stolen when they killed his family.

After long while, Lucy felt one last shudder passed through Flynn, and then his arms slackened. Lucy immediately loosened her own hold but found herself hoping against hope that he wouldn't pull away from her. Not yet.

It felt so good to be like this, to be held like this, to be so close to the warmth of another human being. It didn’t heal the pain but it was soothing. It helped.

Lucy kept her eyes closed when Flynn shifted against her and bit back the protest when she thought he would tell her to get off him. But he didn't.

A sigh escaped him, a heavy sound, and his arms moved, changing the way he held her against him, but not releasing her. Suddenly the whole tone of the embrace changed. Lucy opened her eyes and pulled back to find herself staring down into intense, smoky green eyes.

Flynn didn’t say anything, but Lucy felt one his hands move to the nape of her neck. His eyes seemed to be searching for her consent, search, at least that’s how it felt. She needed this, she knew sex could momentarily block out the pain. That for a little while they could each take what they needed. There could be no harm in that.

She could see he wanted this, he wanted was between them. So, did she. She leaned down and brushed her lips across his in a ghost of a kiss. Testing the waters, so to speak. Before she touched her lips to his and then again, with just very tip of her tongue. She tasted him, softly, lightly, and the last of Flynn’s control shattered.

Flynn pulled her close and kissed her, really kissed her, tilting his head up for a better angle and claiming her lips, sweeping his tongue deeply inside of her sweet mouth, his heart pounding crazily. He felt her fingers in his hair as she kissed him back just as fiercely, just as hungrily.

She pressed herself against him even as he tried to pull her closer and he knew without a doubt that she wanted far more than a kiss. All he had to do was ask, and he knew he could spend the night in his bed with her.

Flynn could sate himself, with Lucy, bury himself inside her. He could lose himself completely in her. But he couldn’t, not like this. He reluctantly pulled back from the kiss.

“Is this what you really want?” he asked softly as he pushed her hair back from her face, searching her eyes to see if she wanted him or just to connect to another person.

"I want you." She replied before she kissed the palm of his hand, catching his thumb between her teeth, touching him with her tongue. Flynn sucked in a breath as it nearly did him in.

“Lucy-“ Flynn stopped as she shook her head; silencing him with one look. She was finished with talking and analysing. She just wanted the man before her. She removed herself out of his lap and took his hands in hers. She pulled on his hands and he knew what she was saying. He didn’t want to deny himself what she was offering. 

 


End file.
